Bad Apples
by november shivers
Summary: 950 words. Apples after graduation. Oneshot, slash.


**Title:** Bad Apples  
**Pairing:** Sirius/Remus  
**Warnings:** Song-inspired. Fluffly. Boykissing. (Very mild) drug references.  
**Summary:** 950 words. Apples after graduation.  
**Disclaimer:** Characters and song lyrics to JKR and Bell X1, respectively.

---

_In the garden, Snake was a charmin'  
And Eve said let's give it a try  
Now lead us not into temptation  
But no matter how hard I try  
When in the garden and  
Snake is a charmin'  
And Eve says let's give it a try  
Eve is the apple of my eye_

- Bell X1, "Eve, the Apple of My Eye"

---

The sun had long departed, dragging noise and heat away with summer sunshine. Silence cupped behind Mrs. Potter's "apple orchard" (really no more than the three trees they'd claimed), pensive among tall grasses and gillyweed. They'd finally grown bored of being on top of the world and hushed into something more passive – or, at least, as close to that as was possible for four seventeen-year-olds who'd left school less than a week ago. Peter and James were lounging in the grass not far away, still tossing rotten apples back and forth, digging for seeds by the light of their "lumos".

The only "perfect" apple (runt, as this really was no orchard, but less flawed than the rest) rested lazily within the curve of Sirius' palm, where he'd chosen to let it stay – ever since Remus had placed it there before the light had faded completely.

"Here," was all Remus had said, but perhaps he should've given further instructions. Or perhaps Sirius was just as sick of fruit as the rest of them. They'd been overflowed with little but apples, apple cider, and apple pie since they'd arrived at the Potters' four days ago. Remus loved them (_the apples, the family, everything in bittersweet, sticky finality_), although they didn't taste like the supermarket – they were lumpy and bruised and bitter – and worms had overcome many of them. The excitement had already worn off a bit when Remus had picked his last, shining and smooth among the safety of high branches. He'd tossed it to Sirius when he'd come to join him on the porch.

Remus recoiled as his feet brushed aside someone's stale apple cores, shoved it away, tucking his legs safely beneath him on the swing – which of course, was rickety and splintered and uncomfortable in a million different ways. More fidgeting would halt the solid rhythm the swing already had, so Remus just let his neck crick and the wood imprint red marks on hips and elbows (they suited him, anyway).

The apple's gleam seemed to be visibly draining as time passed, paling as the glow dwindled out of the evening, and Remus ached from the unrelenting press of wood against his back, against the angry sunburn. He didn't want to leave leave. He was too lazy, too busy sullenly watching the spider Sirius had pointed out to him, designing a web out of dusk's moisture, purely for their entertainment. And in the corner of his eye, Sirius was still holding the apple.

"Why don't you eat it," Remus wondered aloud, after the silence wasn't comfortable anymore, when he could barely distinguish the other boy's outline, long tan neck reaching towards the sky, eyes closed and peaceful. The seat creaked under their combined weight at each gentle sway, and Remus could only see shadows of trees and a veil of gray, the boldest voyeurs of stars peaking towards them.

The chains lifting them clacked as Sirius opened his eyes, smiled oddly as his face tilted, manipulated shadows as he leaned to relight the tip of the cigarette. "I don't know. Look how perfect it is. Might be bad." Sirius settled back, tossed it into the air. Remus rolled his eyes and made to grab for it – but he missed in the darkness, hands passed by sleek fruit as Sirius yanked it away.

Hands returned to lap, Remus gnawed on his lip and listened to the muffles of James' and Peter's distant conversation. "Well, don't you want it?" Remus demanded, words slipping away before he could catch them, something hidden and harsh in his tone. For a moment, he stopped breathing.

"What?"

He shouldn't have expected Sirius to understand his awkward symbolism.

Remus was used to the country's silence, to the light of the stars. He waited, closed his eyes, released the breath and decided, well, Sirius could do whatever he wanted with the stupid apple. "Nevermind," he murmured, slumped, curling up over the edge of the armrest, farther away from Sirius. They weren't talking properly anymore, it was all nonsense about apples and "how are you?"s. And that might have had something to do with drunken fumbles and Mistakes and Severus Snape, but – Remus closed his eyes, breathed again (slowly). This wasn't uncomfortable. It _shouldn't_ be, because they'd _both_ agreed what should end what should go on. (Remus loved "shouldn't"s and "wouldn't"s, but only because they didn't mean anything.) Nothing else would work now.

'Not my fault,' Remus thought, lied, turned away and shut his eyes. He heard a crunch as Sirius bit into the apple at last, but he didn't comment, counted instead how many times the light flickered in the kitchen and how many songs played on the crackling radio James had set up on the broken steps. Remus wasn't tired – but he kept his eyes closed to let the countryside seep through him while he pretended to drift off. He didn't want to talk about it.

Time passed differently away from Hogwarts, away from schedule. Remus listened, and hours passed before he felt Sirius shifting, suddenly unnaturally still beside his hip.

Hot air drifted towards his face with tantalizing slowness, something apple and fresh – Remus froze a hand touched his cheek, light, _barely_ there. He flinched. The instinctive temptation to open his eyes, to then sit up and accuse Sirius of messing everything up again, ruining everything he'd worked (and _wanted_) to end.

"I know you're awake, Moony."

Lips ghosted over his, the hand threaded into his hair. Remus tilted closer (in his sleep, of _course_). He knew it wouldn't work, he knew _we can't, we shouldn't_, but he kept his eyes firmly closed and let himself be lulled to soft promises and apples, just this once.


End file.
